And Here's To You, Mrs Forrester
by Samantha14
Summary: The story of Mrs. Robinson and Benjamin Braddock has been immortalized by Simon and Garfunkel's Mrs. Robinson. What happens when the idea of an affair is applied to Mrs. Forrester? Mrs. Lindsay Forrester?


**Title: **And Here's To You, Mrs. Forrester

**Author: **Samantha

**Summary:** The story of Mrs. Robinson and Benjamin Braddock has been immortalized by Simon and Garfunkel's "Mrs. Robinson." What happens when the idea of an affair is applied to Mrs. Forrester? Mrs. Lindsay Forrester?

**Rating: **R. Very much. You've been warned.

**Author's Note:** Yes, there will be more! It's a very last inning kind of decision, but there will at least be a little more, as I have many ideas where to make this go. And, yes: the couple is very unconventional, but I know a lot of people who like it.

_**Chapter One: **It's A Little Secret_

"Fine! Go! I don't care _what_ you do!" Searching for something to throw, her hand wrapped around a throw pillow--one they had bought together just a few weeks ago, when he'd come home all ready to work everything out. She glared at it, and then threw it with all her might at the closing door. "Crap," she said softly as it bounced gently off the door and rolled to a stop on the floor. He'd really gone. She couldn't believe that he'd really gone. He'd said it was because Lorelai had called him to fix something at the Inn, but they both knew that wasn't true. They both knew where he'd really gone. Fed up with her husband and mad at herself for letting it get this far, she stormed out of the house, slamming the door--more for her benefit than anyone else's, seeing as she was home alone.

Staring up at the dark diner and apartment, he half-heartedly tried to pull the door open again, before finally giving up and realizing that it was true: his uncle wasn't home. "I'm here for you," Luke had said, or some touchy-feely crap along those lines...so after Jess's rejection by that girl he'd loved, and his recent firing, and his recent reading of those stupid love books...his uncle wasn't home. He supposed he could always find his mother, but then he'd have to talk to his new etch-a-sketch loving (shudder) stepfather (bigger shudder). His father, while sometimes actually easy to talk to--as shown by the last summer they'd spent together--lived three thousand miles away on the other coast, and no way was he jumping on a bus for four days so he could stupidly and smellily have a conversation about his newest feelings of discontent. Hmm. _Damn_ that book!

Half-stomping, half-wandering around the tiny town that was Stars Hollow wasn't working very well. As a matter of fact, she had been out of the house for only ten minutes, but had already managed to loop the town. Not for the first time during her marriage, she desperately wished that either she was of age or had more wild friends, so she could get piss-ass drunk and stumble into bed at four in the morning and tell _him_ off as best she could, which would be better than she could sober. She stopped in her tracks, suddenly aware of a lone figure standing in front of the diner and cursing up at it. He had a large army bag slung over his shoulder, and it looked like he was wearing a leather jacket, even in the warm May evening. She couldn't be sure, but she thought it was that boy, the one that was never in her class and didn't graduate and left the town suddenly the year before. She thought he'd had some link to _her_, so she decided that it'd be a good idea to yell at him, because she couldn't yell at her own husband.

He glanced over quickly, the noise of quickening footsteps catching his ear. Seeing that it was some blonde--he vaguely remembered her as being in his class at Stars Hollow--he smirked and stood his ground, waiting for her to come stomping up to him. When she was three feet away, he saw her angry expression and, still reeling from his last encounter with an angry nineteen-year-old girl, he took half a step backward and readied himself for the fighting words he was sure were going to come out of her mouth. But nothing did.

As she reached him, she realized exactly how _crush-worthy_ this boy was. No, he was more than crush-worthy, he was..._sex-dream worthy_. His hair was longer than she remembered, and wasn't as fluffy as her husband's. As a matter of fact, the few wisps that were falling into his eyes were downright..._sexy_. She shook her head quickly, hoping to get the sight of his face above hers, the feel of his hair curled tight in her fingers, the weight of him on her smaller body...out of her head. Out!, she yelled silently at them, before moving her gaze back to his eyes.

He stared at her, trying to get her to look back at him, but after a second he got distracted by her chest. She was wearing only a thin tank top--no bra--and she still seemed to be breathing heavily from the stomping she'd done to reach him. It must have been at least a little cold out, because he could definitely see her nipples through the white fabric. He cleared his throat quickly and tried not to notice the appendage of his own that was quickly hardening.

Amazed, she realized that she could see out of the corner of her eye the beginnings of an erection in this guy's pants. She had no idea what could have made this happen. She hadn't given her husband an erection for almost four months, yet here she was, standing next to a stranger in a non-descript outfit of a white tank top and denim shorts, and he was definitely aroused. She smiled and looked up, past the guy's shoulder, and pulled her hair from in front of her shoulders into a pony-tail. Slipping it into the pony-tail holder she kept on her wrist, she let her hands drop to her sides and shifted her gaze to catch the guy's eyes. He was staring back at her, his eyes clouded by longing, his breath starting to come a little quicker. Amazed, she realized that her own breath was catching in her throat. She took a step forward and was hardly surprised when they suddenly seemed to meet at the lips and the hips, his now full-on erection pressing into the spot between her legs, her legs widening slightly to make more room for him.

After two minutes of frantic moaning and slight hair-pulling, she disentangled herself and mumbled, "I have a house," into his ear, causing him to practically come on the spot. He nodded and pushed her head back toward his, trying to swallow her mouth in his once again. She pushed him away, slightly, and took his hand, to lead him to her house. He watched, happily, as her short shorts, just barely hugging her butt cheeks, showed the very bottom of her ass as she walked in front of him. He thought, as she turned a corner, that he glimpsed her butt crack, and he almost came again at the thought that there was only one layer of fabric between him and her.

She heard him moan behind her, and she smiled, thrilled that she was having this effect on a man. She didn't think she'd ever had this effect before. Her husband had certainly never tried to ravish her in the middle of the street. Even when they'd been at the beginning of their marriage, happy newlyweds, she always got the thought that he was thinking of someone else, of..._her._ Frankly, right now she couldn't care less if this guy was thinking about someone else, just as long as he fucked her, fucked her as deeply and as thorougly as he'd seemed to want to in the street. She reached the house she shared with her husband and slipped inside, pulling this guy behind her, and never thought about her husband again.

He pushed the door closed with his body and pulled her to him again, letting her hips push into his again, and thrust his tongue into her mouth for what had to have been the thousandth time that night. For once, he wasn't thinking about that other stupid girl, he wasn't thinking about anything but this girl in front of him, this girl _on _him. His New York skills clicking in, he reached behind him and locked and chained the door, before pulling this girl to the floor and ending up on top of her.

She started gasping the moment his lips left hers, and gasped harder as his lips found her nipples. Even through the cotton of her t-shirt, his teeth were wrenching her nipples back and forth, causing lightning storms to occur between her legs, and she felt as if she was ready to explode. She reached to take his leather jacket off of him, and he started kicking off his shoes, still keeping his teeth around her left nipple. She kicked off her own shoes, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt. Pulling it over his head, she felt a sense of disappointment, but that was soon lifted as he pulled off her tank top and continued the caress of her nipples.

She reached for his zipper, and he happily lifted himself far enough off of her to allow her to pull his jeans and boxers down. She grabbed his hair in one hand and pulled his head back up to hers, and stuck her tongue down his throat as she rolled him over. He grinned as she sat up, straddling his naked body. She lifted herself off of him for half a second, sliding her shorts down to her knees, and then moving her butt to between his knees to kick her shorts off with a flourish. She was in the perfect place, in his opinion, so he grabbed her ass cheeks and settled them around his erection, finally penetrating her.

She gasped. She'd been unsuspecting. She could hardly believe that he'd chosen there. Her husband had never done anything slightly as interesting as that. She was slightly disappointed, though, that he wasn't going to be working on her--the second the thought was formed, his fingers reached around to her front and reached into her, penetrating her in two places.

He pulled her on top of him, so that her back was on his chest, as he continued his work. He started to slowly and steadily rock, while caressing inside her with one hand. She was gasping at regular intervals with his rocking, and he was groaning at regular intervals too, until suddenly she started screaming, her voice arching louder and louder.

She didn't know his name, and had absolutely no desire to use her husband's, so her screaming--normally reserved for her fake moaning of her husband's name--constituted of "Oh!"s, "Oh, God!"s, and a few "Harder!"s.

After a few more minutes of grunting and groaning and moaning and screaming, they both came, there on the entranceway floor. She fell off of him, falling onto her stomach on the floor in front of him, and, panting, he advanced on her, turning her over so her breasts were pointing directly toward the sky, and straddled her naked body, much as she had done earlier.

She grinned, pushing a sweat-soaked piece of blond hair behind her ear. "What's your name?" she asked, reaching up and pushing a sweat-soaked piece of his own hair behind his ear.

"What's yours?" he retaliated, staring at her breasts and feeling himself harden slightly.

"I asked you first," she said coyly, smiling at the feeling of his hardening again.

He blanched a little at her coyness, for the first time remembering she was a person with a personality, and for all he knew, it could be an annoying-as-crap personality. Eventually, he gave in and said, "Jess."

"Jess," she said softly, letting the word linger on her lips. She laughed. "Jess, I'm a horrible hostess. We've been here for almost twenty minutes, and I haven't offered you anything yet."

He grinned and stood up, reaching a hand down to help her up. He pulled a little too hard, and she fell into his side and laughed, one of her hands settling on his chest and the other tangling into his hair. She placed a simple kiss at the part of his neck where it ran into his shoulder, and then removed her hand from his hair and placed it into his hand to lead him into the kitchen. As they crossed the threshold, they separated, and she headed for the fridge while he stood next to the island, wondering whether he should sit on the stool.

"So, whaddya want?" she asked, whirling as she reached the fridge to face him, her hair flying around behind her and slapping her in the face.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and finally took the plunge and settled on a stool. "Got a beer?" he asked.

"Well, no," she started, blushing slightly. "I mean, we're only nineteen, it's illegal...." She faded off as she realized that this guy did illegal things, not caring about silly things like drinking laws. She vaguely remembered seeing him smoking during the last year at school, back before he could have been eighteen. "Sorry," she finished, actually blushing.

He shook his head and left the stool, walking over to her. "It's okay," he said, leaning to kiss her again, his hand slowly reaching for her breast. She moaned into his lips, feeling herself melt again. He let go of her breast and slid one arm around her neck, and then leaned down so he could slide the other arm behind her knees and pick her up. She giggled as he did, snaking her arms around his neck and burying her head into his shoulder.

"Which way's the bedroom?" he asked. "I wanna ravish you in a more comfortable spot."

She laughed again, and then whispered directions into his ear. He followed them to a T, and before long he was throwing her on the made bed she shared with her husband. He crawled to her and lowered himself on top of her, meeting her at the lips. After one very long kiss, he gasped, "You never told me your name."

"Lindsay," she responded, smiling, before reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair again, forcing him back to her lips.

It wasn't five minutes later--they were really enjoying knowing each other's names, using them steadily and surely, especially her, who screamed his name repeatedly only when he was working on her top half. They weren't even halfway through--when the interruption came, shrilly sounding its call in their ears.

"Don't answer," he gasped, trying to get inside of her.

She couldn't handle the ringing, and so her hand shot out from under him and answered the phone. "Hello?" Silence. Thinking it was her husband on his cell, she repeated: "Hello?" With more silence, she was starting to feel pissed at the interruption. "Hello?" she asked again, the agitation sounding in her voice. This time she was greeted with a dial tone, so she threw the phone against the wall, neglecting to hang it up, so that no one else could call.

"I told you so," he grinned, starting to edge inside of her. She gasped as he finally did, and then moaned his name as he started rocking. They were just screaming each other's names and coming as they heard the front door slam.

He froze, still inside of her.

"Ignore it," she implored, reaching for his hands and moving them to her chest. He pushed her own hands away, and looked her in the eye.

"Roommate?" he asked.

She shook her head and said the word he'd been dreading to hear, ever since he felt the tug of her diamond ring in his hair. "Husband."

"Shit," he whispered, rolling out and off of her.

"Hold on," she said, kissing him quickly on the lips and sliding out from under the covers. She grabbed a robe and left the room.

He muttered expletives and slid out from under the covers himself, leaning down to first hang up the phone and return it to the cradle. As he stood up, he noticed a small photo album claiming "Our Wedding" wedged underneath the bedside table. He picked it up and flipped through a few pages of happy crowds until he found the one he was looking for: her and her husband, on the day of their wedding.

And it was his worst nightmare.


End file.
